The Black Wave of the Unforgiving
by Fin of Land
Summary: There’s a prophecy that the Black Creatures will break free from their bonds and wreak havoc upon the world when the 6,350th carbon based lifeform dies due to attempted human transmutation . . . unless the Gate can be sealed.
1. The Destruction of Rush Valley

There has been a change of plans. I had intended to edit which city had gotten destroyed and where it was. I then got very lazy when I actually took a look at how much the story had revolved around the city that had gotten destroyed and I decided to keep it the way it was.

Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist and do not, in any way, claim to do so by writing this story.

Enjoy.

-

Kapp Anderson strolled through the bustling city, his long trench coat swaying at his feet, while his daily findings, a steel-plated auto-mail arm hotwired with artificial nerves, jolted lightly against his leg.

It was a fine night. A delicate wind played blithely with the thinning brown hair that sat peacefully atop his head; whilst couples and late-shoppers wandered around with leisure.

The heavens were less calm. Clouds roiled and stumbled in dizzying, turbulent formations. Nobody though anything of it; that is, until the dancing hulks parted to reveal a burning yellow moon.

Kapp halted in mid-step as the suspicious golden radiance threw a darkened frame of himself upon the sidewalk before him. Curiosity won out over a sliver of fear. Kapp whipped around and was struck with terror.

Vicious violet eyes filled the sky like lavender star-light. Innocent, child-like laughter filled the air. While tension inducing horror seeped in along with it, like sly liquid shadow. The moon, before his very eyes, split in two, sending forth a hideous 'crack' that shook the concrete beneath his feet as it rushed towards him in a rampaging wave.

Kapp let loose a shock-laced shriek. He abandoned his expensive new limb and instantly began tearing down the street like a madman, just as millions of others joined him. The slow-but-steady pace of just minutes ago was cast aside to be replaced with chaotic, blind darting.

The crevice in the moon spread as billions of long, obsidian, simple arms reached out for the souls of the pure.

-

"So what you're telling me is that the entire city of Rush Valley, the auto-mail capital of Amestris, was reduced to the smallest pile of rubble in the course of twelve hours?" Colonel Mustang slid backward in his chair, crossed his arms across his chest, and gave Edward a doubtful look that seemed to question the alchemist's sanity.

"Yeah, I am, and that's not even the half of it, the way the city was destroyed is the most interesting part," Edward sighed and leaned forward on his knees, further slouching his position, "It's the most interesting because we can't figure out how."

"You can't figure out how," Mustang repeated, raising a thinly penciled eyebrow, making the disbelief in his voice more pronounced with his skeptical expression.

Edward ignored the look and continued.

"The entire city seems to have melted away, people and all."

To Be Continued.


	2. Discovery of Turli

To Whoever Really Cares: Sorry about the wait, I was debating on wether or not I should kill Winry off. I still haven't really come to a decision. I really do hate Winry, but then (since I like to at least try to keep people in character) I'd have to make Ed and Alphonse angsty and I really don't feel like wasting a whole chapter on Winry's death. I'll tell you a secret, though. I doubt she'll even show her face in this story.

Thank you to Bar-Ohki who reviewed. It really is appreciated.

But seriously guys, reviewing is not a sin against nature.

Disclaimer in previous chapter.

-

"When he said hearing about it is nothing compared to the shock of seeing it, Fullmetal was right." Mustang sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead in exasperation. This was not easy to swallow.

Before him stood what was left of Rush Valley, a vast pile of rubble that stretched for miles, as far the eye could see. There was no sign of life, no sign that anything had ever lived there at all. The once bustling city, full of people, in its prime, was now a deserted wasteland not even fit for a rat to live in.

He withdrew his hand from his face and began to explore hoping to find something, anything, that would point to even a clue of the city's destruction. The only safe presumption was that all the people were obliterated completely as there wasn't even a child's teddy bear left to tell someone survived whatever disaster had overtaken this town.

His search was fruitless and depressing. Naught was left amid the destruction. With a weary sigh he departed the miserable scene and headed for the camp he had pitched with the help of his staff.

As he walked into the camp a soldier greeted him: "Colonel Mustang, sir," the soldier saluted and Mustang nodded. "At ease, what news?" The soldier shook his head despairingly. "Nothing good, sir, there's still no sign of life anywhere, near of far." Mustang nodded again. "Dismissed," he said, and he watched as the soldier saluted again and walked away.

This was a gruesome puzzle.

The colonel resigned to his tent and found Hawkeye bustling around his makeshift desk, two large crates shoved together with a tablecloth placed neatly on top. As he walked in she stopped and saluted stiffly.

He addressed his lieutenant: "Hawkeye, bring to me all records of cities destroyed within a twenty-four hour period in any such way."

"Sir," she dropped her salute and walked, calmly, out of the tent.

After she had left he proceeded to his desk and took a seat, pondering how this could have happened. Other than the possibility of four very strong alchemists armed with premature Philosopher Stones waltzing in and, quite randomly, deciding to blow the city up he had no other ideas, and even then that was pretty farfetched; there would at least be blood, or scorch marks upon the remains of the city, it had not happened that long ago so not even a stray sandstorm could have erased those kinds of hints.

Some time later, Hawkeye returned, as passive as ever. She placed the files he requested in front him. She, then, nodded her salute and strolled out of Roy's encampment.

Mustang stared.

The stack must have had been, at least, three feet tall. It was beyond him how Hawkeye had carried it; but he hardened his resolve and took the first file, which just so happened to be Ishbal. Mustang moaned and sat back in his chair. This was going to be a long night.

-

11:45 P.M.

He was on the twelfth file, there were fifty; but those were no longer of any use, he had already found what he needed. Apparently, half a century ago there was a case similar to this; but on a much smaller scale. The old Rush Valley, a much less profitable town than the recently destroyed city in the South-West Area, was put to ruin in exactly the same way; but back then they had even less of an answer to the questions _how _and _why_.

There didn't seem to be any connection between the two sites, other than the way they were put to ruin, of course; but there was something quite contrasting between them both: the older town was close to another town, Turli, that survived the downfall of the old Rush Valley. People still lived there, they would know.

He smiled.

Time to go hunting.

-

Chapter Three will be up when I decide wether or not I'll kill Winry . . . Prepare for a long wait. (I can't help it, I'm just lazy.)

To be continued . . .


	3. Train Waiting, Arrival at Turli

I realize this didn't take nearly as long as I thought it would. I've decided to go with the plan 'don't include Winry at all'. So, wether this is good or bad news (good because I don't kill her or bad that I'm completely ignoring her), Winry will not be shown _at all _in this story. Winry or Edwin fans: you might as well stop reading now. Unless you like horror and gore . . . then continue 'till the end!

Thank you to Bar-Ohki (once again), and I believe I have just answered your plea, darkgirl4.0.

Disclaimer in first chapter.

-

Edward tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth in a gesture of defiance and impatience. "When's the train coming Al?" He voiced the question that had been troubling their minds for an hour and a half. Alphonse sighed metallically: "It was supposed to be here forty minutes ago." The tutting became louder and faster while Edward's expression became more and more disgruntled.

They had sat on a bench of mahogany in the bustling train station of Eastern Command for the previously mentioned time (an hour and a half) and still the train was all but present.

Edward rose from his awkward position, his head had been low into the crease of the bench, and stretched his muscles while rubbing his neck tenderly.

"So, how did that colonel get on a train before us," he questioned, seething through his teeth and glaring at the empty track that was supposed to be supporting their transportation. "You woke up at 12 o'clock, remember brother?" Al suggested accusingly. Edward's hand rubbed his neck harder, trying to rid it of the guilty hotness that had so suddenly befallen it, he grinned in what he hoped was an innocent way and dropped the subject.

-

Edward let out an unsatisfied growl and began pacing for the umpteenth time. "Ed, if you keep doing that you're going to collapse," Alphonse commented timidly. Edward grunted viciously (startling a passerby who edged away from Edward carefully) and continued pacing, only faster. Alphonse sighed and slumped his posture hopelessly.

Finally, for what had seemed to take ages, the whistle of a train graced their ears (Alphonse's non-existent ones) and Edward screamed an irritated, yet joyful, 'at last' to the sky; then stomped over to Alphonse to pick up his luggage.

"Ed-"

"Not now, Al."

"Ed-!"

"I said not now!"

"That's not our train!"

Edward blinked. He turned around to look at Alphonse, confusion written across his features. Al pointed to the train schedule and Ed's expression changed from curiosity to pure rage.

Their train had been canceled.

"That's it! We're walking to Central!" Edward exclaimed.

Alphonse objected: "Ed, you're being irrational again! What are you going to do for food?"

"I've learned enough from Teacher to know what's food in the woods and what's not, and so have you," Edward retorted. "We're walking and that's final. I'll get to Central Library even if I have to crawl there." He crossed his arms defiantly.

Alphonse sighed dejectedly. "So, when you're delusional from dehydration and starvation how are you going to research what happened to Rush Valley?" he asked.

Ed stuck his nose up into the air. "I'll find a way," he rebelled.

Alphonse rolled his eyes in exasperation.

-

The train screeched to a grinding, stomach-jerking halt on the rusty tracks. The name of the train's seemingly deserted destination was shouted by the conductor and a man with raven-hued hair stepped austerely downward from the final step of the train's narrow staircase. His foot hitting the metal lining nailed into the cement with a clear and precise 'ting'. The man surveyed the area with a sharp, humorless stare.

Roy Mustang had reached the wind-beaten, desolate town of Turli.

-

To Whoever Cares: I've created a trailer for this. It is on youtube and the link for it is in my profile. Rate and review . . . please? (Yes, I do realize that this isn't the best story in the world and that it probably shouldn't have a trailer, but hey . . . what can I say? I was bored . . . You're going to start hearing that a lot from me.)


	4. Mystery Assailant, Arrival at Central

Once again, I have no excuse, other than laziness, for keeping updates so far apart. So bear with me.

Thank you, Bar-Ohki (you rock), my only regret is that I can't say that to more people.

-

His footsteps echoed off the shambling wood of houses that were, in all probability, once the pride of the town. A cheerless gunmetal color had replaced the once lively and vibrant blue in the sky that he had witnessed during his ride through the hilly countryside. Colonel Mustang's eyes flicked from side to side warily, searching for any and all signs of movement, and life. The wind that whistled through the hollow buildings completed the eerie, unsettling setting.

Lieutenant Hawkeye had insisted that either she or Hughes accompanied him to this unbelievably empty 'town'. He had countered with the argument that someone was required to stay behind and keep an eye on the activities that occurred in the hastily made camp. The camp was rather large and it would take more than one person to manage until another colonel like himself arrived with his (or her) unit and took control of the situation.

The street Mustang had been investigating ended abruptly with an aged, hole-riddled building that had a sign hanging off a rotting post just outside of the front door. Moving closer, more out of inquisitiveness than the sense of duty, the words on the sign became clear.

_Insanity Asylum_

_Check in at Front Desk if Visitor_

With an insatiable curiosity Roy Mustang stepped lightly up the stairs, avoiding the termite-infested middle stair. He cautiously faced and attempted to open the elderly pine door. His hand twisted and tugged at the rusting handle to no effect. The entrance was stuck, or being held, fast.

Phenomenon and eagerness devouring his common sense like sharks at a feeding frenzy, he reached into his pocket and took out a pair of pristine, colorless gloves. The only feature that marred the pallid garment was the vivid red circle stitched onto the back.

Pulling them on routinely, he aimed, concentrated, and snapped.

Dust and wood exploded into his face, a deadly combination. Temporarily blinded by the grime that was the result of years of decay, Roy couldn't evade or find a suitable shield against the splinters that cut into his forearms, held in front of his face in a protective 'x'. In the midst of all the chaos he thought he heard an angered and confused scream . . .

But it must have been his imagination.

As the dust cleared he found that the small blast of fire had done exactly what he had wanted it to do. It had cleared a path into the abandoned shelter.

Still aware of the constant threat of a cave-in, Roy made his way, vigilantly, inside. Stepping cautiously Mustang's eyes skimmed the area-

-then widened in astonishment and pain as a large figure launched itself into his stomach with a victorious, animalistic cry.

-

The dust of the road bit at their heels as it had done so many time before on their long trek to Central City. Central's off-white buildings glimmered distantly in the light of the sinking sun. Pausing only momentarily to absorb the softening hues, Edward and Alphonse plunged on.

Disgruntled, but jubilant they quickened their pace, eager to feast their eyes upon accommodation, food, and the white-washed walls of Central Library.

-

Next update coming in: . . . sometime far in the future (or maybe you can convince me otherwise hint hint).


End file.
